Empty Nests and Nuked Eggs
by LuxaLucifer
Summary: Amanda is off to college, and Amerigo can't help but hear the echo of her voice in every corner of their house. Thankfully, he knows someone who might help him chase out the shadows. That, and Robert knows a good place to get pizza.
1. Chapter 1

I haven't started a new fic in a long time, so I hope this one's okay! This first chapter is shorter than I'm used to, but basically what I wanted to do was take from where the game left off and finish off the Robert romance, because it really only feels like a beginning, not an ending at the finale of Dream Daddy. Anyway, the shortness of the chapter is probably not going to be usual. I'm going to add characters to the story as they appear, and the rating may get higher as well.

* * *

"I love you, Dad. Make sure not to burn the house down while I'm gone."

And with those words, Amerigo D'Amico is an empty nester. The going away party is over, the fifteen-hour drive (one way!) to set Amanda up in her dorm is over, and now he's back in a cul-de-sac where he only has a few short months of memories built up to tearfully reminisce over. He considers driving back to his old house and parking across the street from it so he can stare at all the windows Amanda broke growing up, but he knows, objectively, that that's not a normal thing to do. It doesn't make him want to do it any less, though.

Amerigo pulls his car into the garage and parks it, sighing as he takes the keys out of the ignition. When he gets out of the car he accidentally slams the door behind him, wincing at the noise it makes and silently apologizing to his car door hinges for the brutality he's unintentionally shown them.

Inside the house, he's so lost in a fog of his thoughts—the way Amanda laughed when Alex twirled her in the air, how she'd pedal faster when she took her bicycle over speed bumps, the record sixteen layers she wore once to school during a particularly cold winter—that he doesn't notice that something is wrong in the house. The first sign is that there's unexpired milk in the fridge, which he doesn't register until the carton is at his mouth and that cold, delicious goodness is pouring down his throat. He's been gone for nearly a week, what with helping Amanda move into her dorm and the drives each way, and he definitely didn't have the foresight to buy new milk before he left.

The second sign is the dent in the couch. Amerigo's well-trained eyes can identify over ten thousand (or is that ten?) unique couch dents, and he knows that this one was made by someone's posterior. Someone _else's_ posterior. Who is this mysterious person, and why has he come into Amerigo's house, daring to buy him milk and sit on his sofa? What kind of _demon_ would do such a thing?

The third sign happens when he's just about given up on the whole mystery, having spent ten whole minutes (a lifetime for a man used to being able to break up his attention span with commercial breaks) trying to decipher it. His body begins to reject the milk, something that's begun to happen more and more as he ages, an especially worrying sign considering how much he likes cheese. When he opens the bathroom, the third sign is there. The third sign's name is Robert Small.

"Robert?" says Amerigo, startled into forgetting all of the snazzy intros he'd thought of in the car to impress Robert. "What are you doing here?"

Robert shoots him a level glare from where he's crouched, currently balancing himself on the rim of the bathtub and smoking a cigarette. The shower curtain brushes his salt-and-pepper hair, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Can't a man visit a friend?"

"Of course," says Amerigo. "But I don't really remember any of my friends doing it in my bathroom before."

Robert reaches his arm out and Amerigo instinctively takes it, finding himself helping Robert stand up and step down from the tub. There are no dirt stains of any kind left behind; Amerigo looks down and realizes that Robert isn't wearing his shoes. One of his socks is a different shade of black than the other.

"That's because none of your friends were me," says Robert. He adds, "Or a guy by the name of Ricky I knew back in my army days. He slept standing up in the shower. Didn't matter if the thing was on or not, he could catch a wink just by shutting his eyes. Only ended when the sergeant found him half-drowned at three am. He'd started snoring, you see."

Amerigo can't help but smile. "Were you even in the army?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"I'm kidding."

"Of course."

Robert's already in Amerigo's kitchen when he calls out, "Actually, I'm not."

Amerigo will believe it when he sees the discharge, but he figures that's a matter for another day. "So what brings you to my particular bathtub?"

"Your milk was expired."

"Did you know that before you broke into my house?"

Robert shrugs. Nothing about his expression changes, but there's a certain tenseness in his tone when he says, "If it really bothers you, I won't do it again. You should find a better spot for your spare key, though. Under the mat? Really?"

He dangles it from his thumb and forefinger, faking Amerigo out the first two times he tries to snatch it from him before finally letting him catch it.

"It's fine," says Amerigo, meaning it. A few months ago he would have thought that Robert was insulted by the idea of Amerigo being upset about the breaking and entering, but he now knows to read the emotion just expressed as nervousness.

He looks at Robert with a new focus, reading between the lines with the kind of skill usually possessed only by master ghost hunters on reality TV shows or film noir detectives, or at least the versions of them that live in Amerigo's mind. There are bags under Robert's eyes, and stubble of a thickness that implies he hasn't shaved in a few days. Amerigo steps forward to see if there's any sort of scent around Robert. The result leaves him with the impression that, until he found him, Robert hasn't been spending much time in bathtubs.

"Did you just sniff me?" says Robert.

"No," says Amerigo. "Yes. Maybe."

Robert stares at him. "Don't expect me to sniff you back."

Amerigo laughs. It feels good. His chest feels slightly lighter. Standing in his kitchen, he can feel the tenseness in his shoulders acutely, the ache in his knees throbbing harder than ever. "I need to sit down," he says, stumbling to the couch.

Robert sits next to him, far enough away that he can put his shoulder up on the back of the couch but close enough that his fingers brush Amerigo's cheek. He doesn't say anything, but his expression is calm.

"What was it like?" says Amerigo, because he doesn't know how to ask Robert if he's been drinking again and he knows he's not going to stop thinking about Amanda's smile and the possibility of him forgetting what it looks like.

"What was what like?"

"Val going to college."

There is a pause, and he wonders if he stepped too far. When Robert answers him, though, there isn't any anger in it. "At first, I hardly noticed. Just one less person around to get pissed at me. Didn't have to worry about waking her up when I came home."

Amerigo doesn't know what to say. He should have known Robert wouldn't understand what he's going through, not because he doesn't care about his daughter, but because he's only begun to do something about those feelings recently. Amerigo leans back, letting his head flop against the top of the sofa as he shuts his eyes.

"I knew it would be different for you," says Robert. With his eyes shut, Amerigo's imagination enhances the throaty quality of the other man's voice.

Amerigo lifts his head, which protests the point of being moved when it had been so recently allowed to relax. "Yeah?"

"Well, obviously."

Amerigo wants to ask if that's why he's here, but he knows how Robert values silence, and besides, he's pretty sure he knows the answer. "Do you think I could get real gay with you, Bobert?"

"You're already wearing those socks, Bmerigo."

"That does not roll off the tongue."

"I would make a convincing case in a court of law that neither does Bobert."

Amerigo leans into Robert, closing the space between them and pressing his head into Robert's shoulder. Now he smells like tobacco, a strong enough smell that he can ignore any more unpleasant odors he's picking up, and he's warm. Robert raises his hand to Amerigo's back and leaves it there, clearly unsure what to do but comforting in its heavy presence. When the tears come, Robert says nothing, only drawing Amerigo closer until they leave only hiccups and sniffles in their wake. Only then do either of them let go.

* * *

If you liked it, I'd really appreciate it if you left a review! I haven't been writing much fanfiction recently, so I'm a little nervous about starting a new chapter fic. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry about the delay! I didn't mean to take ages to write the chapter, but life got in the way. It has a habit of doing that sometimes. I really appreciate the feedback I got on the last chapter and I hope to hear from you again. And, of course, that you like the chapter.

* * *

Of course I'll be a chaperone, he'd said. I love the zoo, he'd said. Animals and kids are cute, he'd said. That was before he really knew how many children there were in the Maple Bay school system, and how many of them loved to eat sticky things and grab onto his clothing and ask why he was named after the country they lived in.

"It's Italian," he finds himself fuming to Robert, who's been dragged into the whole chaperoning business as well, which is an unspoken sign to everyone how desperate Hugo really is. "I'm Italian. I'm not named after the United States!"

"Then what _are_ you named after?" asks Robert, detaching a child from his jeans and sending him on his way back to the sixth grade pool. Eleven year olds should be old enough to know better than that. Should be does not mean they are, though. "Has Italy secretly been named the United Italy of America all along?"

"I'm not named after _any_ country! I'm named after Amerigo Vespucci."

"And what did he do?"

"He got the continent named after him. Two of them."

"So you're named after the guy who the country is named for?"

"Yes."

"But not the country."

"No."

Robert smirks. "How could these children possibly get that confused?"

Amerigo resists the urge to stick out his tongue at Robert, somewhat because he still feels too uncool for Robert's effortlessly badass presence, and also because several teenagers are already sticking their tongues out at each other, and he has no desire to be a copycat. He's saved from having to actually reply by a sharp clapping coming from the approximate front of their group, which is milling around the front gates of the zoo with such aimlessness that it must be purposeful.

Hugo coughs into his hand, which manages to silence a third of the children who didn't quiet down when he clapped, leaving a sizable portion of teenagers still muttering to each other. Mary, standing to his right, puts two fingers between her teeth and whistles so loud that even Robert jumps, although he passes it off as nothing.

Hugo shoots her a grateful glance before speaking. "I have your groups and your worksheets here, which I will list off alphabetically in a moment. Remember, the scavenger hunt worksheet is mandatory and will be graded for credit. We will meet at 12:30 for lunch at the Carnivore Cafe. I hope you all have a fun and educational time!"

Robert leans to whisper in Amerigo's ear. "Sounds like torture."

"Robert, we have to help them find everything on the scavenger hunt."

Robert frowns slightly when he says, "Sounds like torture."

Amerigo is pretty early on alphabetically, but knowing sooner doesn't turn out to help at all, because as Hugo lists off the names, he feels a sense of horror trickle down his spine like someone had done that middle-school trick where they pretend to crack an egg over your head. "Amerigo D'Amico will be leading a group with Lucien Bloodmarch, Gretchen Gabor, Carmensita Sella, and Ernest Hemingway Vega."

Hugo looks up and meets Amerigo's eyes. The exchange between them is silent, from a distance, and lasts less than five seconds. At the end of it, Hugo's hands are shaking as he holds the paper. "They will also be assisted by Robert Small," he adds hurriedly.

Amerigo is very fond of Robert. He enjoys his company very much. As he looks over at the man and watches him dig in his pocket so he can give a service animal nearby a whittled medal, he realizes that this does not mean he would have picked Robert as the person to help him chaperone this group.

Robert grumbles under his breath as the service dog disdainfully rejects the medal. "Some animals."

"He's working, Robert."

A few minutes later, Hugo finishes the list, and the children are free to swarm to their respective leash-holders. Amerigo isn't sure what he's supposed to do. He feels like he should be wearing a nametag. He raises his hand back and forth awkwardly. Robert smirks and does not do the same.

Carmensita is the first one to find them, beaming up at them with a sincerity that almost hurts. Amerigo likes Carmensita. It would be hard not to; he's seen sunflowers with more negativity in them. Next is Ernest, glaring at them so hard that Amerigo has to wonder if he thinks his gaze will melt the adults like they're the Wicked Witch of the West. Lucien trails behind them, tilting his chin up slightly at Robert when he sees him. Robert nods back in return. They eye each other. Amerigo knows he's missing the point of this exchange, but he's interested nonetheless.

Amerigo looks around for the last girl, knowing it's a bit of a lost cause, considering he has no idea what she looks like. When the others groups have cleared out a bit while Carmensita engages Ernest in some awkward conversation about their math homework, Amerigo catches sight of a plump girl with blonde Princess Leia buns looking confused. "Gretchen?" he calls.

She turns towards him, relief plain on her face. Princess Leia buns isn't accurate- it's much more like Kirsten's braids from the American Girl doll line. Amanda had two, the second after the first was accidentally broken. When Amanda threw it out the window. It had looked at her the wrong way, she explained, and she had to teach it a lesson.

"I'm Amerigo," he says, trying to be as welcoming as possible. "This is Robert."

"Have you ever looked a fish in the eye?" says Robert. "They can't blink. They can't look away."

Gretchen's face loses the relief.

"Oh, he's just trying to be funny…promise. This is Lucien, Ernest, and Carmensita, if you haven't met them."

Gretchen gives a hint of a smile. "I know Carmensita. We're in culture club together."

Carmensita gives her an encouraging smile in return and moves to stand closer to her. Amerigo can't help but feel sorry for Gretchen; she didn't ask to be put in a group with a cul-de-sac clique. Carmensita seems to know how to make her more comfortable, though, certainly more than Amerigo does.

Amerigo looks around the little entrance square and realizes with horror that almost all of the other groups have moved through the gate into the zoo itself. He herds their little group in that direction as quickly as possible, having the most difficulty with Lucien, who's walking extra slowly as he texts with lightning-fast thumbs.

A bored teenager not much older than Lucien is watching people as they walk through the gate, checking bags if people have them. He lets everyone go through until they get to Robert, who's dressed in a dark blue v-neck (Amerigo is working very hard not to stare at the chest it exposes) and his signature leather jacket- which, Amerigo realizes, has a water bottle with dark blown liquid sticking out of it.

"Sir, what is in that beverage?"

"It's whiskey," says Robert.

The teen stares at him, clearly nervous as he stutters, "Sir, you can't bring alcoholic beverages into the zoo."

Amerigo and the children, even Lucian and Ernest, are staring as well from the other side of the gate. Robert breaks out into a huge grin, laughing so hard that the employee hazards a chuckle.

"I'm only kidding. It's Coke."

"Oh," says the employee. The poor boy looks sweaty enough to wash a windshield. "Well…okay then."

He opens the gate for Robert, which creaks dramatically. Everyone's eyes are on the bottle in his pocket.

Fifteen steps past the gate, Robert leans over to Amerigo and whispers, "It's whiskey."

Amerigo turns his head quickly and almost knocks his nose into Robert's. "What?"

"I'm kidding!"

Robert shoots him a quick grin, but before Amerigo can process it, he's turn away to stop Ernest from sneaking off into another group. Ernest glares at him. "What, are you going to lecture me about crappy old movies again?"

"You only call them old because you're barely out of diapers, pipsqueak."

Lucien snorts as Ernest turns red. Gretchen and Carmensita are standing by, watching Amerigo to see if his reaction means it's okay to laugh. Amerigo manages to keep a straight face, thank god, because objectively he knows he shouldn't approve of what Robert said. Objectively. Shouldn't.

"What's first on the scavenger hunt?" says Amerigo, pulling out the sheet of paper a harried Hugo had shoved in his hand.

"Aw, man," says Ernest. "We're not actually going to do that, are we?"

Amerigo tuts. "It's for credit—you heard the man."

"You don't want to drop out of school, do you?" says Robert, who's now standing behind Ernest and taking a swig from his Coke bottle. "End up a drifter, roaming the streets with a thumb to the road and a palm outstretched for coins. I had a buddy, Delbert, he was last seen on the Oregon-California border, walking on a dusty road with no water and no end in sight. That was fifteen years ago."

They're all silent, all of them aware of the cool breeze across their faces, the muted sun beneath a cloudy sky. It's Carmensita who breaks the moment, bubbly enough that Amerigo doesn't mind. "That sounds awesome," she says.

Robert shrugs. "I have to admit, you're right. It does."

Amerigo checks the scavenger hunt sheet. Their first thing to find is…an animal larger than them. Even the sixth graders know that kind of stuff. He scans the list, hoping for something more challenging to stop Lucien and Ernest from wandering off or breaking something. There are only a couple that aren't painfully easy. Amerigo tries to think of something fun and relatable for the teens that will keep them invested. He wracks his brain, summoning all his mental powers and knowledge from raising a teenager. Ernest is already edging away by the time he says, "If we do well, I'll buy you all ice cream?"

There's a pause.

"Sick," says Lucien.

Gretchen and Carmensita grin. Even Ernest looks less displeased.

"I'm getting a dipped cone," says Robert.

Amerigo hides a smile behind the sheet. "So, first we're finding an animal larger than ourselves."

"The elephant exhibit is that way," says Ernest, pointing, not a trace of sarcasm in his expression.

"Okay," says Amerigo. "Let's go that way, then."

The temperature is perfect for a trip to the zoo, the September air cool enough to be comfortable but not so chilly that it can't be fought off with a light jacket. The zoo, which isn't technically in Maple Bay, but a county over, is the only zoo for a hundred miles, so it's better than their town's population would expect in a place funded by a small town's tax dollars. They pass a couple of other groups and a bunch of families, as well as a few pairs of college students with a refreshing lack of cynicism. Amerigo shoves away memories of Amanda at the zoo, chest seizing in preparation for an emotional stroke. He can't do this right now.

They make it to the exhibit Ernest pointed out to them, only to find out that it's not the elephant exhibit at all.

"Ha!" crows Ernest. "Got ya!"

"Ernest…" says Carmensita.

"This is the giraffe exhibit," finished Gretchen.

"It still counts as an animal taller than you," say Amerigo, smiling. "Did you know where he was taking us?"

"Yup," says Carmensita. "I love coming to the zoo. My dad brings me to concerts they have here all the time."

Ernest kicks a statue of a turtle and immediately winces. Amerigo has never seen teenage rebellion look so defeated.

"Now we need to find an animal that's nocturnal," says Amerigo.

One of the kids knows exactly where the owl exhibit is, and they trudge off there, pencils in hands to mark their sheets. They find several animals this way, to the point that Amerigo isn't sure what they're bringing students to the zoo when they clearly know it so well, but his brief moment of dreamily imagining the moment he can return all the children safely to Hugo is interrupted when Carmensita says, "Amanda's dad?"

"Yes?" Amerigo says, resisting the urge to assert his name because he doesn't want to hear another joke about the country.

"Ernest is gone."

Robert shakes his head. "Gone too soon. We'll miss that kid."

"No we won't," says Lucien.

Robert lets out a bark of laughter. "Someone will."

Amerigo is too busy experiencing firsthand what it feels like to have all of your nerves individually combust inside your body to enjoy their banter. Where did Ernest go? How did he miss him sneaking off? Maybe he didn't sneak off at all and was grabbed by a horrible zoo predator, the kind who sneaks into the zoo through the back fence and snatches snotty kids with a face full of acne and a brain full of mischief.

"Relax, Amerigo," says Robert. "We'll find the kid. He can't have gotten far."

Amerigo shoots him a tense smile. Before he can respond, Carmensita presses her fingers to her scalp and closes her eyes. "I'm putting on my thinking cap."

"Aren't you a bit old for that?" says Lucien.

"You're just jealous because my thinking cap is cooler than yours."

"I bet you got your thinking cap at Dead, Goth and Beyond," says Gretchen.

"As if. Their merch is so outdated."

"Aw," says Carmensita. "Your dad would be proud."

Lucien looks murderous. Amerigo feels sick. Robert reaches over to him and squeezes his hand, his callouses rough against Amerigo's softer fingers. He takes a breath, calming himself, although his heart is still pounding away in his chest.

"Okay," he says. "Where would Ernest go?"

"His favorite animals are lions," says Lucien.

Gretchen taps her chin thoughtfully, looking like a reincarnated Sherlock Holmes, if Sherlock Holmes resembled Laura Ingalls Wilder. "There are dangerous chemicals in the greenhouse. He might try to steal some."

Carmensita pauses, clearly trying to think of something as well.

"Someone should stay here in case he comes back," says Robert.

"You," replies Amerigo.

"Me?"

"You're the other adult."

"Oh," says Robert. "Yes, that makes sense."

He sits on a bench and pulls a knife and a block of wood from his jacket, which holds about as many wonders as that fancy bag Hermione had in one of the Harry Potter movies. Amerigo can't tell them apart; he knows it was one of the last ones. There wasn't a lot of color in it and the new Dumbledore was old news. And dead.

Amerigo casts Robert a fond look as they leave, but his attentions are quickly returned to the missing child. His mind starts playing out scenarios where he admits to Hugo that, after less than an hour, he lost Ernest Hemingway Vega. Images of Ernest breaking his arms and legs and maybe also his neck by climbing into an animal enclosure swarm his vision.

They pass a gaggle of gazelles, marking 'find an animal that travels in herds' off the list, but Amerigo finds no joy in it, and he can tell his worry is spreading to the other kids, even Lucien, who has his phone pulled back out and is texting with a frenzy.

They check the lion enclosure, marking off both 'carnivore' and, for the baby lion, 'born in captivity.' Amerigo doesn't know if they're allowed to double-dip, but he doesn't care. He's about to take the kids back to Hugo and pray for forgiveness when he feels his phone buzz. He whips it out and checks it. It's Robert.

"Hey," it says, before three identical "hey"s appear underneath the first one.

Lucien stops texting and sneaks a languid peek at Amerigo's phone. "What frat boy is texting you?"

"It's Robert," says Amerigo.

"Why does he text like he's about to ask for dick pics?"

"Lucien!"

"Oh, come on, I'm seventeen."

"They're not!"

They both look at the girls, who are staring at them wide-eyed. Gretchen looks like she has questions. Many questions.

"Lucien," says Amerigo, aware he's treading dangerous waters. "Apologize."

Lucien's eyebrow twitches, but the look on Carmensita's face gives him pause. As he mutters a half-hearted apology, Amerigo checks his phone. Robert's messages have now added "guess what, Amerigo? guess who I found? guess." Nothing after that.

Amerigo types "Ernest?" hopefully at a whopping 90 wpm, for him a frenzy of flashing fingers.

"You got it man," is Robert's reply. "Come back here."

Amerigo grins at them. Carmensita grins back. Gretchen smiles. Lucien grunts. "Robert's got Ernest! We need to go back to where we left him."

Carmensita claps her hands. "I knew we'd find him. I hope Ernest is okay."

"He's fine," says Lucien. "His texts were on read."

Amerigo opens his mouth to reply, then shuts it. It's not worth it. He knows it's not worth it.

The whole zoo is the prettiest, nicest place Amerigo's ever seen on their way back to the bench they left Robert at. He smiles at everyone he sees, including other school groups and a few grumpy babies. The sun feels like it's waving at him and the animals seem extra happy to be inside disguised cages. Everyone is safe and accounted for, and they even pass the naked mole rat exhibit, marking off the 'unusual looking animal' exhibit. Poor naked mole rats. The Milhouses of the animal world.

They return to the bench to find Robert whittling, seemingly unconcerned with the teenager sitting next to him, arms crossed and lower lip stuck so far out his sulkiness could likely be seen from space.

"Where were you?" says Amerigo.

"The bathroom," says Ernest.

"Man," says Lucien. "That's the lamest thing I've ever heard."

Robert keeps whittling.

Ernest rubs his nose. When he takes his hand away, there's a streak of blue left behind.

"Ernest, what's that?" says Amerigo calmly. Like Dumbledore. The first one.

"Nothing," he says.

"It's spray paint," says Robert. "He spray painted the bathroom with Yung Steinbeck."

"Lame," says Lucien.

"Oh come on," says Amerigo. "A zoo bathroom? That's the lamest thing I've ever heard. The only thing worse would be spray-painting the inside of a church."

Lucien and Carmensita are trying not to laugh as Ernest reddens.

"What?" says Amerigo. "What's funny?"

"Wow, man, that was a brutal burn and you didn't even know," says Lucien.

Amerigo should be less surprised by Ernest's version of being a cool youngster, which usually results in him being the lamest delinquent he's ever heard of. "Anyway," he says. "It's about lunch time now. When we see your dad at the food court, I'm going to tell him what you did, and he can take it from there."

Ernest shrugs. "Whatever."

"It also means no ice cream for you."

Ernest looks so crushingly disappointed that Amerigo has to struggle not to take it back. "Stop spray-painting zoo stalls and you won't lose your ice cream privileges."

"Whatever, man," says Ernest, but the whatever holds no rebellion, just adolescent pain.

As they walk to the Carnivore Cafe, Robert slides up next to him. Amerigo double-checks to make sure none of the kids have used Robert's lack of attention as an opportunity to sneak off before meeting his intent gaze. "What's up, Robert?"

Robert takes a swig of the brown bottle, crinkling it slightly. "You did good back there."

He's close enough that Amerigo can smell both him and the liquid in the bottle. He's suddenly at a loss, one more difficult in many ways than finding a surly teenager in the zoo. "You're the one who found him."

"Yeah…but you laid down the law. Like I've always said, you're the better dad."

He shoots Amerigo a crooked grin, one Amerigo does not return. "Comparisons aren't what matters," he says. "Caring about your kid is what matters."

"Huh," says Robert, narrowing his eyes. Amerigo can almost feel the negative rays coming from him. His silence is so pervasive that Amerigo moves towards the kids, deciding to hit two birds with one stone by doing their job and taking a second to think about how to approach Robert when he's like this.

At lunch, surrounded by the imposing bars of the Carnivore Cafe, which was formerly a series of oppressively small cages for the big cats, Amerigo tells Hugo about Ernest's actions, his hand firmly on the young man's shoulder so he can't escape while he and Hugo are busy being disappointed in him. It's a bit of a relief to be rid of Ernest, to be honest, because his hands are full enough with Lucien and, if he's even more honest, Robert.

When he next looks down at the worksheet, he realizes that they have actually, in a fear-fueled frenzy to find Hugo, found everything on the list. Amerigo is not the first to realize this; Carmensita and Gretchen are grinning expectantly, and even Lucien is peering over the top of his phone.

"You know what this means, don't you?" says Amerigo.

"Ice cream," chime Carmensita and Gretchen in unison. Amerigo approves of their fast friendship, formed with the unshakeable bond borne of necessity. Amerigo would also try to find a sane person if he'd been put in a group with Lucien and Ernest. And Robert. He feels a sudden surge of sympathy for these poor girls.

"You can get any size ice cream you want and any flavor," he says.

Both girls get large. Lucien asks for two, both for himself. "It's the one Ernest would have eaten."

"No," says Amerigo.

They all line up in front of a stand, one that vaguely reminds Amerigo of Lucy's booth in the Peanuts comics, except this one is trying to hide its shabbiness with a concerning amount of ferns and coconuts. He wonders if whoever is running this ice cream place knows that, at the end of the day, Massachusetts weather will make sure to remind them that they're not in the tropics.

Lucien buys himself an extra cone from the lethargic teenager worker and immediately takes a picture of it. When Amerigo asks why, he smirks and says, "I'm telling Ernest you bought it for me."

Amerigo frowns. "Now he's going to hate me."

"He already hates you."

"Oh."

"Don't take it personally, dude. He hates everyone."

"He doesn't hate me," pipes up Carmensita.

Lucien surveys her with narrowed eyes, then grudgingly says, "No, he doesn't hate you."

Robert is the last to order except Amerigo, getting a mixed orange and black raspberry cone that sounds so good Amerigo can't help but get the same. The moment his mouth touches it, he knows he made the right choice, and pays for the outrageously expensive ice cream without a care in the world.

"What is wrong with you?" says Robert harshly.

Amerigo's head snaps up from his ice cream. "What?"

Robert is glaring at him. "Did you just take a _bite_ out of your ice cream? Who raised you?"

Amerigo's shoulders untense and he laughs, taking another one. "I don't get brain freezes. Sorry if you do, weakling."

Robert meets Amerigo's eyes and takes a bite out of his ice cream. Several seconds later, he shudders. "Damn you."

"Just eat slowly," says Amerigo, walking to a bench where they can sit and watch Lucien, Carmensita, and Gretchen, who are huddled at a separate table to eat their cones. "It'll wear off."

Now that they're alone, an elephant settles between them, heavy and large. Amerigo pushes against its metaphorical weight so he can scoot closer to Robert, who's beginning to smell strongly enough that Amerigo has to work not to wrinkle his nose.

"Why did you bring a bottle of whiskey to the zoo?" he says softly.

Robert doesn't reply, licking a long stripe up his towering ice cream. Amerigo is patient, and he isn't surprised when nearly a minute goes by before Robert says, "That obvious, huh?"

"You didn't exactly try to hide it."

Robert shrugs. "Would you believe me if I told you that the last time I came to the zoo I witnessed the second, highly suppressed mauling of Roy of the famous Las Vegas performers Siegfried and Roy?"

"No," says Amerigo. "I keep tabs on Siegfried and Roy, Robert. You can't use my own favorite gay animal performers against me."

"I didn't know you had a lot of favorite gay animal performers."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," says Amerigo, trying for mysterious.

Robert pulls it off better, chuckling with just a hint of a rasp in his throat. "I know one important thing about you."

"What's that?"

"You're a nerd."

Amerigo isn't sure what to say. Robert's not wrong.

"Well," he says, pausing. "I know something about you too."

"What's that?" says Robert. "And don't you 'I know you are but what am I' me. I'm not a nerd. I drink whiskey and have a hand tattoo."

"I'd argue with that, considering you argue with teenagers in movie theaters—"

"—only when I'm drunk—"

"—and you text like a teenage boy."

Robert snorts. "Fair."

"What I was trying to say, though," continues Amerigo, pushing toward as he presses his knuckles to Robert's arm in what's intended to be a comforting gesture, although he doubts he can feel the contact through the leather jacket. "Is that I know something's wrong. You might be Mr. Rebel, but you're better than getting drunk around children you're in charge of."

Robert looks away so that all Amerigo can see when he speaks again is the curve of his jaw and his gray hairs. "I never have been before."

He spits out the words. Amerigo checks to make sure that the three children who haven't spray-painted a bathroom stall aren't up to any mischief; they're still speaking amongst themselves, thankfully, although that doesn't mean they're not plotting Amerigo's demise.

"But there's nothing stopping you from being that person," says Amerigo.

"Except myself."

"Except yourself."

Robert stands so suddenly the metal bench they're sitting on grinds loudly in protest. "Mr. Rebel, huh?"

"That's you. Bobert Rebel."

"Robert Rebel sounds much better."

"I know as much as anyone that we don't get to choose our names," says Amerigo glumly, thinking of his own name secret, one Robert would never live down if he knew.

Robert wobbles a little on his feet, but Amerigo is glad to watch as he throws the half-empty whiskey bottle in the trash. "This is more symbolic than anything else," he says to Amerigo. "I've got a flask in my jacket pocket."

"Throw it out?"

"No way. Zak Bagans signed this himself."

Amerigo has a heart attack but manages to keep it quiet and to himself, filing it way for something to ask Robert about later. "Pour it out?"

"And get the ducks drunk?"

The children, having eaten their cones with the ferocity of youth, get up from their table when they see that Robert and Amerigo have done the same. Deep conversation is officially over the moment Lucien is within earshot. It doesn't stop Robert from leaning into Amerigo's side, whispering so close into his ear that Amerigo can feel his scruff tickling his earlobe.

"Cryptid hunting," he whispers. "You and me. Wednesday night. I'll pick you up."

"What time?" says Amerigo, trying not to move his mouth like a ventriloquist and failing utterly. Lucien snaps a not-very-subtle photo of his expression.

"After dark."

Bobert Rebel really does get off on the whole mysterious thing, Amerigo decides as they head towards the reptile house, free to visit wherever they like until the buses meet now that they've finished the scavenger hunt.

The reptiles are nice, although he doesn't vanish any glass to let a snake out, but the company is nicer, a fact that's hard to deny when he sees Carmensita and Gretchen picking dandelions outside the building so they can pretty up the reptiles' homes as one last nice act before they head back to school.

Robert is staring at a small turtle, one that's trying to snap at him through the glass. "Do it," he says. "Bite me. End it all."

The turtle does not figure out a way to break through the glass.

Robert shakes his head and whispers, "Coward."

Amerigo laughs. He's not free of worries for either himself or his friend, but right now he's feeling optimistic enough that nothing looks too depressing.

Including, he decides after some deliberation, Lucien's hair.

* * *

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